ove 


THE  LIBRARY 
OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


IN  THE  NAME 
OF  LOVE 


BY 
MILDRED  ,CRISS  McGUCKIN 


Ube  fmicfcerbocfeer  press 

NEW  YORK 

1917 


COPYRIGHTED 
BY 

MILDRED  CRISS  McGUCKIN 
1917 


CONTENTS 
I— IN  THE  SUNLIGHT 

PAGE 

BEAUMARIS -3 

THE  RUSTIC 5 

A  NEW  DAY 8 

DAWN  ........      9 

SUNSET         ........     10 

FROM  A  TRAIN     .         .         .         .         .         .         .11 

LAC  LEMAN  .......     13 

OUT  OF  THE  FAR- WAY 14 

SYMPHONY    ........     15 

ON  THE  MOUNTAIN 17 

OCTOBER      ........     18 

II— IN  THE  MOONLIGHT 

GREATER  THAN  ALL  ELSE 21 

To  HEAR  YOU  LAUGH  ......  22 

THY  CALL 24 

THE  LETTER .26 

A  LOVER'S  SONG  . 28 

v 


vi  Contents 

PAGE 

WHITE  ONE  .  .         .         .         .         .         -29 

TOGETHER  INTO  LIFE  ......     30 

THE  SINGER         ,  .         .         .         .         .         -32 

SUPPLICATION        . 34 

AN  APPEAL  .  35 

ONCE  THINE         .  .         .         .         .         .         -37' 

How  LONG?          .  .         .         .         .         .         .38 

You  .  •      .  .         .         .         .         .         -40 

ONE  LAST  WORD  .         .         .         .         .  .       T     41 

WHEN  .  .         .         .         .         .         -43 

III— IN  THE  FIRELIGHT 
AT  THE  END  A  MEETING       .         .         .         .         -47 

THE  LAST  DREAM 52 

AN  OLD  MAN'S  SONG 55 

IN  THE  SOUTH  WIND     ......  56 

THE  LOST  PRAYER        ......  57 

To  A  CIGARETTE  . 58 

MASQUES     .....                           .  60 

IV— IN  THE  DARK 

AFTER  ALL  .......  73 

ANOTHER  STAR 74 

MASTER  ONE 76 


Contents  vii 

PAGE 

SUICIDES       ...  .  •     78 

OVER  ALL    ......  -79 

RETROSPECT          .         .  .80 

A  LITANY    ...  .82 

THE  DECEIT  OF  IT  ALL         .  ...     83 

MOODS         ...  .  .86 

THE  LONG  ROAD 88 

THE  RUN 89 

Too  MUCH  FOR  A  WORD 91 


I 

In  the  Sunlight 


BEAUMARIS 

AT  Beaumaris, 

The  low  moon's  like  an  orange  lantern  burning 

golden  fire 
That  falls  in  waving  shafts  of  light  across  the 

Straits; 
All  Anglesea 
Is  painted  lavender  and  rose;  deep  twilight  wakes 

desire 

Within  the  blood ;  each  evening  star  illuminates 
Love's  eyes, 
At  Beaumaris. 

At  Beaumaris 

On  Anglesea,  I  and  my  shadow  wander  'cross  the 
lawn 

Alone,  counting  the  useless  imprints  of  our  feet; 

All  Anglesea 

Is  made  for  love  and  lovers  with  their  dreams  of 
life  unborn; 

I  cannot  bear  the  salt-scent,  or  the  deep  sea- 
beat: 

I  go 

From  Beaumaris. 

3 


4  Beaumaris 

From  Anglesea 

I  seek  the  heather-hills  of  Wales,  and  build  in 
Beddgelert 

A  little  house  of  crumbling  stone  to  hide  my 
age; 

And  Beaumaris 

Will  live  for  me  in  dreams  of  love  until  my  last 
sunset 

Turns  gray:  one  star  o'er  Snowdon  in  my  heri 
tage 

To  Beaumaris 

On  Anglesea, 


THE  RUSTIC 

THEY  never  stop!     Those  half-mad  motorists, 
that  run 

Through  countryside,  by-lane,  and  hill.     Speed 
ing 

From  cities  reeking  with  their  toil,  they  miss  the 
sun, 

Mist-veiled  across  the  low-lands.     Still  heed 
ing 

Naught,  they  miss  shadow-clouds  blowing  across 
the  hill. 

They  never  stop  to  heed  the  stars.     They  miss 
the  song 

Of    sleepy    birds    calling    their    mates.     Their 
lights 

Flash  on,  on,  ever  on,  like  drunken  eyes  that 
long 

For  rest.     Their  throbbing  motors  drown  the 
night's 

Song  of  the  woodland  brook  and  drowsy  whip- 
poor-will; 

They  miss  the  blackish  blue  of  silent  pools  that 
lie 

5 


6  The  Rustic 

Shadowed  and  rippled  by  the  willow's  edge; 
They're  blind  to  feather  clouds  that  breast  an 

opal  sky, 

Or  silken  meadow  grass,  and  mossy  ledge 
Where  aged  turtles  basque,  and  air  their  rounded 

shells. 
And  heedless  of  all  living  save  themselves,  they 

speed 

On  past  my  garden  hedge,  their  cruel  wheels 
Crush  down  my  animals,  leaving  them  there  to 

bleed, 

Indiff 'rent  to  their  lives,  or  how  it  feels ! 
God  grant  that  they,  these  puny  great  men,  find 

their  hells. 

I,  just  a  stupid  farmer,  sleeping  out  my  years 
Of  solitude,  know  more  of  life  than  they; 
I  have  been  nearer  God,  tasted  his  smiles  and 

tears, 

And  known  the  majesty  of  Faith.     The  day 
And  night,  all  varying,  are  given  men  to  spend 
Close   to   the  heart   of   things;   alive  to   each 

appeal 

That  comes  from  scented  rose  or  rarer  flower, 
Responding  to  the  touch,  the  looks  of  love  that 

steal 

From  creatures  less  intelligent,  whose  power 
Is  hindered  by  the  lack  of  speech.     So  to  the  end, 


The  Rustic  7 

I  will  find  far  more  meaning  in  the  scheme  of 

things 

Than  they  who  hurry  past  not  heeding  life, 
Or  knowing  half  the  lasting  joy  that  stillness 

brings, 

The  beauty  of  love  children.     See  my  wife 
With  love  all  through  the  years  aglow  in  her  dear 

eyes, 

No  sad  estrangement,  born  of  crowded  days, 
Has  marred  our  happiness.     And  as  I  see 
The  revelers  pass  by  in  haste,  so  strange  their 

ways, 

I  wonder  what  they  seek,  what  destiny. 
Have  they  so  much  who  all  life's  little  things 

despise? 


A  NEW  DAY 

SEE  o'er  the  wine-red  sunrise,  star-light  is  fading 

'way; 
Amethyst  mists   are   drifting,  drifting  out  to 

the  sea ; 
Hear  through  the  dune  grass  swaying,  morning 

winds  greet  the  day, 

Fragrant  their  breath  from  night  dews'  linger 
ing  witchery. 

Feel  in  the  warm  light  creeping  softly  across  the 

lawn, 
Life  to  a  world  of  creatures  rising  from  out 

their  sleep : 

Whisper  in  prayer  "Good  morning,"  unto  an 
other  dawn ; 

Go  to  the  merry,  laughing;  stop  with  the  sad 
to  weep. 


DAWN 

THE  moon  is  lost  in  the  mist  of  morn ; 

The  stars  are  falling  to  sleep ; 
Salt-laden  winds  in  the  cool  gray  dawn 

Are  wafted  ashore  from  the  deep ; 
Life-dreams  are  born  to  vanish  and  die 

As  the  sun  casts  a  diamond-path  o'er  the  sea; 
Pearl  tinted  vapours  awake  in  the  sky 

With  shadows  of  dreams  to  be. 


SUNSET 

STILL  seas ;  gray  shadows  drifting  from  the  land ; 

Long  lines  of  dead  waves  foaming  on  the  sand ; 

A  greenish  swell  rolls  in,  outlined  against  the 
spray, 

And  on  the  sky-line,  just  one  sail  drifting  away 

To  banks  of  fog  that  move  in  from  the  East : 

Low  dunes  reflect  the  rose  of  sunset  skies ; 

The  sands  turn  burnished  gold,  lavender  lies 

Beneath  the  crests  of  curling  waves.  The  sand- 
snipes  trace 

Their  tiny  footprints,  curving,  twisting  like  fine 
lace, 

Back  to  their  nests  on  salted  bugs  to  feast. 

The, dying  wind  drops  down  beyond  the  sun; 

Silence  o'er  all;  a  sense  of  all  things  done 

Comes  with  the  waking  stars.  Long  paths  of 
warm  gold  light 

Fade  from  the  glowing  sky,  and  stealthily  the 
night 

Wraps  in  its  mantle  weary  man  and  beast. 


10 


FROM  A  TRAIN 

FIELDS  of  green,  dotted  with  yellow  mustard 

flower, 

High  banks  lined  with  clinging  fern, 
Bogs,  and  half-burned  woodlands,   farms  that 

nestle  in  a 

Clearing,  brackish  bays  that  turn 
Lazily     throughout     the     marshlands,     sandy 

stretches 

Bare  except  for  stunted  pines, 
Now  a  wheat   field's   feather   surface,  now  a 

swamp  of 

Tangled  roots,  and  wild  fruit  vines, 
Then  a  cloud  of  smoke  that  blurs  the  landscape, 

then  a 

Whistle's  shriek,  that  dulls  the  grind 
Of  steel  wheels  on  the  track,  no  sound  from  the 

outside 

Country  racing  on  behind — 
Now  a  pine-tree  thicket  carpeted  with  mosses, 
Now  a  long  straight  roadway 
Stretching  to  a  patch  of  bright  sky,  o'er  the 

quiet 

ii 


12  From  a  Train 

Blue-gray  water  of  a  bay, 

Now  a  town  with  weather-beaten  roofs  and 
ugly 

Yards  clustered  in  the  sun, 

Then  a  fog,  and  through  the  whiteness,  wires  and 
poles  all 

Run  a  race  that's  never  won. 

Endless  grind,  and  grind,  and  grind  of  wheels, 
endless  smoke, 

Endless  passing  out  of  sight, 

Now  the  dusk,  the  round  sun  sinking  in  a  cloud 
less 

Sky  that  quickly  turns  to  night, 

Now  the  tunnel's  blackness,  many  shuffling  feet 
that 

Seek  impatiently  the 

Passageway,  men  and  women,  children,  porters, 

Pushing,  talking,  nervously; 

Motionless  the  train  stands  panting.  Strange 
white  faces 

Hurry  by  in  eagerness. 

One  in  all  the  crowd  is  coming  to  me — now  his 

Voice,  his  hands,  and  his  caress ! 


LAC  LEMAN 

OPAL  clouds  o'er  narrow  sands 

Sink  in  a  copper  sea; 
Mem'ries  rise  in  mountain  mists 

Drifting  to  ecstasy; 
Great  night  draws  the  sea  and  sky 

Folding  their  souls  as  one ; 
Love  to  love !    God  to  man ! 

Life's  perfect  rule  be  done. 


OUT  OF  THE  FAR- WAY 

DREAMS  in  a  drifting  mist,  a  voice  in  the  sunset 
breeze, 

Peace  in  the  dim-veiled  mountain  peaks  falls 
o'er  the  restless  trees; 

Diamond-tipped,  the  crescent  moon  breaks 
through  a  fading  cloud ; 

Eyes  of  the  evening  wake,  o'er  day  in  an  opal 
shroud ; 

Night  touches  the  silent  lips  of  day;  the  power 
of  unseen  hands 

Summons  the  dying  soul  of  love  to  realms  of  far 
away  lands. 


SYMPHONY 

DROWSY  glades  and  somber  shades  echo  the 

laughing  pines ; 
Fairy  tones  and  falling  cones  rustle  the  ivy 

vines. 

All  the  woods  are  deep  in  a  noon-day  sleep 
And  the  tree-trunks  molding  lie; 
The  myrtles  are  hiding  down  by  the  side 
Of  the  willow  trees  that  sigh. 
Cool  winds  stir  the  silver  fir,  waving  their  crests 

on  high ; 
Early  June  brings  forth  her  moon  to  ride  an 

amber  sky; 
Then  the  soft  dusk  falls  and  the  young  owl 

calls 

To  the  will-o'-the-wisps  that  fly, 
And  the  shadows  meet  at  their  dancing  feet 
As  the  sprightly  elves  run  by. 
Fairies  sweet  on  mosses  meet  where  jewel  dews 

have  lain — 
Incense  land — none   understand  if   they  know 

not  pain: 

15 


1 6  Symphony 

And  the  mystery  of  our  ecstasy 

Springs  up  from  the  dampened  earth, 

While  the  woodlands  deep,  in  their  dreamless 

sleep 
Are  whispering  songs  of  mirth. 


ON  THE  MOUNTAIN 

THE  frozen  cataract's  white  fangs  of  crystalline 
Sparkle  beneath  the  sun  against  the  crested 

evergreen ; 

The  jagged  rocks  lay  bare  their  icy  pinnacles 
Under  a  vault  of  blue  and  white,  that  draws  the 

frost  unseen 
From  lowland   towns    that   slumber   still  and 

mountainous  ravine. 

The  silent  hills  stretch  out  like  waves  of  stone; 

the  snow- 
Capped   mountain   peaks    shadow    the  valleys 

through  the  mist,  and  go 
Behind  the  drifting   clouds    of   fire   and   gold 

that  race 
Across  the  waking  sky.     Then  rise,  man,  from 

your  sleep  and  show 
Dawn  as  a  vision  of  Heaven,  unto  the  world 

below. 


OCTOBER 

SKIES  so  blue  they  lend  their  color  to  the  frosted 

world  below, 
Tinting  shadows  azure,  purple;  thridding  clouds 

like  banks  of  snow; 
Frosty  nights  of  stars  at  arms'  length,  dawns  of 

fire  and  then  the  glow 
Of  Indian  Summer  dawning  skies : 

Whirls    of    apple,    dead    leaves    burning,  blow 

around  the  chimney  grate, 
Arbor  grapevines  laden  purple,  bend  above  a 

rustic  gate; 
Colors  riot  through  the  asters  and  the  sunbeams 

delicate 
Kiss  Indian  Summer  butterflies. 

Dying   corn-shucks  stacked  like  soldiers  hold 

their  stately  russet  line; 
Leaf  on  leaf  in  scarlet,  amber,  falls  from  off  the 

ivy  vine; 
Drop  by  drop  the  blood  falls  slowly  from  this 

dying  heart  of  mine — 
Love's  Indian  Summer  sacrifice. 


18 


II 

In  the  Moonlight 


GREATER  THAN  ALL  ELSE 

DEAR  little  hand  about  my  finger  tips, 

How  could  I  know  before  you  came 

How  much  a  part  of  love  you  are?     Dear  lips 

Warm  on  my  breast,  am  I  to  blame 

Because  I  could  not  know  thee  as  thou  art  ? 

Eyes  like  the  twilight  stars,  look  up  at  me 

Innocently  yet  strangely  wise. 

Surely  a  part  of  God's  great  mystery 

Beats  in  thy  heart.     I  close  my  eyes 

In  pain,  so  great  this  new  love  in  my  heart. 


21 


TO  HEAR  YOU  LAUGH 

I'VE  traveled  'cross  the  night ;  the  fireflies  lit  the 

way 

Among  the  shadowed  leaves ; 
The  highroad  dust  is  on  my  feet ;  my  lips 
Are  parched  for  water,  yet  I  wait  to  hear  you 

say 

One  happy  word ;  I  spend 
The  starlight  to  the  end ; 
I've  come  to  hear  you  laugh. 

I  cannot  ask  you  if  your  days  are  filled  with 

song, 

Yet  I  must  know  no  pain 
Is  lurking  in  your  eyes  while  I  stand  by 
In  idleness,  afraid  of  circumstance.     I  long 
To  know  that  tenderness 
Falls  in  your  least  caress; 
I've  come  to  hear  you  laugh. 

As  silently  as  darkness  o'er  an  evening  cloud 
I  come  to  you,  my  heart 
22 


To  Hear  You  Laugh  23 

On  fire.     I  crush  the  heart-song  on  my  lips 
And  stand  here  mute,  afraid  to  speak  aloud 
Lest  I  should  cause  you  pain: 
Love,  I  am  here  again; 
I've  come  to  hear  you  laugh. 


THY  CALL 

FROM  dreams  that  brush  my  tired  eyes,  with 

mists  of  loveliness 
And  fragrance  from  a  wealth  of  wild-wood  flowers 

newly  blown, 
Into  the  velvet  blackness  of  the  night's  deep 

wilderness 
I  journey  forth  and  mock  the  rolling  thunder 

clouds  alone, 
Because  you  call  to  me. 

From  Life  that  shines  on  me  in  copper-colored 

radiance 
I  turn  aside,  knowing  no  other  light  than  love, 

no  creed 
But  thy  desire;  I  come,  then,  slave  to  thy  first 

word's  utterance 
And  lay  immortal  love  beneath  thy  feet,  knowing 

the  need 
Thou  hast  of  me  to  call. 

In  Death  I  rise  again  from  out  vast  solitude 
To  follow  thee  in  shadow  form,  holding  thee 
close  to  me 

24 


Thy  Call  25 

To  lead  thee  back  at  length  to  God's  great 

sanctitude; 
Soul  bare  to  soul,  and  one  at  last  throughout 

Infinity, 
Because  you  call  to  me. 


THE  LETTER 

AT  last  your  letter  comes,  and  with  its  coming, 

all  the  throbbing  pain 

That  lies  within  a  joy  too  deep  for  smiles  alone: 
Cold  little  words  they  seem,  and  yet  your  voice 

and  laughter  once  again 
Echoes  within  my  heart.     There's  something  in 

the  tone 
Of  what  you  say  that  hints  of  such  control  that 

I  grow  sad 
And  wonder  if  you  dare  not  say  what's  in  your 

heart. 
I  love  you  all  the  more  for  such  consideration, 

dear,  and  had 
I  strength  myself  would  crush  mine  own  thoughts 

ere  they  start 
To  hurt  you  in  my  answer.     Yet  there's  just 

the  chance  that  you  may  care  to  have  me  say 

all  that  I  feel— 
I  see  your  eyes,  then,  in  the  silent  pathway  of 

the  stars  at  night, 
And  hear  your  voice  at  dawning  when  I  wake 

from  sleep ; 

26 


The  Letter  27 

I  cherish  ev'ry  memory  we  hold  in  common, 

lest  the  light 

Of  ev'ry  day  existence  turn  them  gray.    I  keep 
The  last  touch  of  your  hand  a  thing  apart;  the 

warmth  of  your  caress 
Still  brings  the  warm  blood  to  my  face,  and  still 

the  ache 
I  felt  on  leaving  you  burns  in  my  throat,  and  all 

your  tenderness 
Lives    in  my    mind.     And  sometimes   all    my 

strength  could  break 
From  longing  for  your  touch  again,  your  voice, 

your  laughter,  and  your  eyes ; 
But  over  us  the  star  of  love  burns  vividly — 
Our  star — God  put  it  there  to  light  us  on  our 

road  of  sacrifice, 

And  it  shall  burn  for  us  throughout  Eternity. 
So  now  good-night,   Dearheart,   look  once  and 

find  the  star  that  burns  for  us,  and  then 

with  me  to  God,  just  kneel. 


A  LOVER'S  SONG 

THE  wish  of  the  rose  is  the  sun ; 

And  meadow  grass  longs  for  the  dew ; 
A  weary  moon  calls  for  the  dawn, 

But  my  call,  Dearheart,  is  for  you. 

The  sandy  beach  longs  for  the  sea; 

The  cry  of  the  sea  is  for  rest ; 
And  fog-banks  are  calling  the  wind, 

But  I  call  you  close  to  my  breast. 

Snow  mountain  tops  long  for  the  sky, 
And  valleys  are  sick  for  the  rain ; 

A  song-sparrow  cries  for  its  mate, 
And  I  cry  to  see  you  again. 

The  long  summer  days  want  evening, 
And  nights  want  their  silences  deep ; 

The  stars  long  to  hold  up  the  sky, 
But  I  long  to  hold  you  in  sleep. 


WHITE  ONE 

You  are  fever  on  my  lips,  drying  all  my  blood. 
'Til  I'm  parched  with  thirst  for  you,  White  One 

of  the  night ; 
You  are  pain  within  my  throat,  aching,  burning 

there, 
'Til  the  thought  of  death  grows  sweet,  White 

One  of  delight : 
You  are  pale,  and  cool,  and  still,  lying  in  my 

arms; 
You  are  warm,  and  red,  and  gay,  laughing  at  the 

dawn; 
At  your  touch  I  am  a  man,  filled  with  youth  and 

life, 
But  my  heart  is  old  and  torn  after  you  have 

gone: 
You  are  fire  within  my  breast,  scalding  all  my 

veins; 
You  are  waters  cool  and  deep  drawing  all  my 

strength ; 
You   are  weakness,    you   are  strength,   White 

One,  you  are  love; 
You  have  made  me  what  I  am,  make  me  yours 

at  length. 

39 


TOGETHER  INTO  LIFE 

HUSH! 

The  thrush 

Is  calling  to  its  mate; 

Night  is  setting  sail  its  star-filled  ships ; 

Love! 

Above 

The  dark  is  falling  late; 

Fill  me  with  the  fragrance  of  your  lips ; 

Let  me  forget  the  drumming  of  the  world's  cold 

song. 
Pale! 
The  frail 

White  rose  is  drooping  now, 
Sick  from  breathing  its  own  loveliness : 
Thrill 
And  still 

The  aching  in  my  brow; 
Touch  me  with  the  fire  of  your  caress ; 
Show  me  the  love  that  aches  to  live  this  long 

night  through. 
Wake! 
And  make 

30 


Together  into  Life  31 

Our  love  a  thing  apart ; 

Mingle  your  soft  breath  with  mine  to-night; 

Sleep ! 

And  weep 

A  little  then,  Sweetheart; 

Realization  brings  more  than  delight, 

Leading  the  way  from  adolesence  into  life: 

Trust! 

Adjust 

Your  scheme  of  life  to  mine; 

I  will  keep  you  all  in  all  to  me, 

Care, 

And  share 

My  blood  with  yours  like  wine, 

To  keep  our  married  love  an  ecstasy 

I,  as  a  lover  will  adore  just  you,  my  wife. 


THE  SINGER 

WHAT  if  you  bar  your  gates,  I  know  the  way  to  a 

•    pool  where  I  may  see 
Your  eyes  within  the  bright  reflection  of  the 

sky; 
What  if  you  chose  a  stranger  in  your  wanderings, 

if  it  makes  you  glad 

I'll  go  then,  singing  o'er  the  road  for  passers- 
by. 

What  if  the  waning  night  lingers  too  long,  I  will 

wait  in  your  garden 
Beside  the  blossoms  of  the  heliotrope  that 

bend 
With  their  own  weight,  calling  your  name  in 

prayers  that  are  stifled  with  my  pain, 
But  morn  shall  find  me  singing  at  the  long 
road's  end. 

What  if  you  should  not  return  but  go  on  your 

way  with  another, 
I  should  not  cry  your  name  to  emptiness,  but 

crush 

32 


The  Singer  33 

All  of  the  rose's  fragrance  close  to  my  frozen  lips, 

mingling  my  song 
Throughout  the  summer  with  the  long  notes  of 

the  thrush. 

Though  I  die  in  pain  if  you  find  your  happiness 

my  songs  rejoice; 
But  night  finds  me  longing  for  the  dreams  that 

go 
Back  to  the  touch  of  your  hands  holding  me 

through  the  night :  but  day  by  day 
The  highroad  is  wearying  for  singers,  I  must 

go- 

3 


SUPPLICATION 

COME  back  and  touch  me  ere  the  pain 

Of  loving  thee  is  gone; 
All  my  intensity  is  vain 

Without  thy  laugh,  thy  song — 
I  stagnate  with  the  commonplace 

Dreading  to  wake  alone, 
For  I  have  known  just  thine  embrace, 

Never  an  overtone; 
Dearheart,  is  not  the  sacrifice 

Too  dear?    Give  me  thy  hand; 
Caress  the  fever  from  mine  eyes 

And  silent,  understand. 


34 


AN  APPEAL 

ONE  look  into  my  eyes,  and  I  would  under 
stand, 

Ah  why  begrudge  me  this? 
Dearheart,  I  cannot  ask  the  pressure  of  your 

hand, 

Your  spoken  word,  or  kiss, 
But  just  to  know  from  you  the  truth — let  it  be 

now,  then  go 

Your  busy  way  with  men; 
Leave  me  to  understand  alone,  knowing  I  know, 

What  matter  silence  then? 
Or  is  it  pride  that  makes  you  bar  your  heart  to 

me, 

Feeling  the  wall  between 
Us  as  you  do  ?    Look  back,  dear,  at  the  past  and 

see 

Just  love.     'Twas  nothing  mean 
That  made  me  leave  your  side.     I  loved  you, 

dear,  but  you 
Impassive,  let  me  go 

Beyond  your  call,  create  my  interests  anew. 
And  you? — How  could  I  know? 
35 


36  An  Appeal 

And  now  that  all  is  past,  I  long  to  know  from 

thee 

The  truth.     Surely  no  stain 
Would  fall  on  your  white  honor  just  to  let  me 

see; 

Is  not  your  silence  vain? 
Take  down  the  barriers  that  stand  before  our 

feet 

Just  once ;  then  pay  the  price 
Of  knowing  all.     Together  let  us  meet 
A  common  sacrifice. 


ONCE  THINE 

LOOK  back,  Dearheart,  into  the  memory  we  hold 

as  one, 
And  feel  a  warm  breath  trembling  close  to  thee 

for  day  is  done. 
Forget  the  long  road  winding  far  apart  for  thee 

and  me, 
Lay  bare  thy  soul,  thy  heart,  just  once  to  me 

in  secrecy. 
For  life  would  cheat  us,  dear,  of  all  its  best,  that 

precious  spark 
Of  love.     Once   thine,    then   welcome   all   the 

rest  of  pain  and  dark. 


37 


HOW  LONG? 

BEYOND  the  walls  of  time  that  crumbling  fall 

Will  you  be  there  in  case  we  meet  to  call 

My  name,  and  claim  me  thine  from  out  the 

past? 
Such  vital  love  as  yours,  dear,  can  it  last  ? 

How  long  across  the  barriers  of  space, 
Strange  customs,  languages,  and  distant  place, 
Can  you  hold  sacred  promises  long  made? 
The  darkness  falls,  dear,  I'm  alone,  afraid. 

Afraid  lest  time  may  rob  us  of  the  truth, 
And  substitute  for  love  just  beauty,  youth; 
Unnatural  loneliness  presents  a  test 
That  all  may  fall  beneath,  even  the  best. 

I  would  forgive  ourselves  playing  the  game; 
Forgetting  for  the  moment,  if  the  same 
Deep  overwhelming  love  could  live  on  through 
The  ev'ry  days  of  life.     Can  it  for  you  ? 

Look  back,  Dearheart,  and  feel  our  love  again, 
Poignant  with  hope,  and  sweet  even  to  pain ; 
38 


How  Long?  39 

The  glow  of  dusk  and  firelight's  on  my  face; 
I  tremble  'neath  your  eyes  and  your  embrace. 

Each  day  that  passes  leaves  a  scar  of  pain, 
And  on  the  thread  of  life  an  aching  strain 
Too  great.     Is  it  not  so  with  you?    Shall  we 
Face  years  of  this,  cold  but  for  memory. 

Or  shall  we  crush  out  all  that  hurts  and  then 
Leave  love  to  rot,  taking  our  place  with  men 
As  actors,  bowing  on  the  stage  of  fame? 
For  me  it  is  enough  to  love  thy  name. 

With  you  it  may  be  diff 'rent,  in  your  hand 
Is  strength  to  govern  men.     I  understand ; 
Accept  all  life,  Dearheart;  my  lips  are  sealed; 
Mine  eyes  are  closed  to  futures  unrevealed. 


YOU 

You,  who  would  have  none  of  me,  know  that 

your  laugh  has  echoed  through  each  garden 

that  I  knew; 
You,  who  turned  away  from  me,  know  that  your 

voice  has  prayed  for  me  each  time  I  tasted 

grief: 
You,  who  turned  your  eyes  like  steel  to  mine  in 

tears,  I  love  the  pain  that  you  have  given 

me: 
You,  who  have  wrung  the  faith  in  God  from  out 

my  soul  and  left  me  wandering,   I  love 

you: 
You,  who  live  your  life  in  joy  while  I  must  die  in 

grief,  burn  but  one  candle  on  my  bier. 


40 


ONE  LAST  WORD 

I  CANNOT  see  thy  face,  Dearheart;  the  fire  is 

low; 
Put  on  another  log.     'Tis  scarcely  dawn, 

And  this  our  last  night  here  together.     When 

you  go, 

Go  with  a  laugh  upon  your  lips,  the  morn 
Gilding  the  skies.     But  now,  one  moment  more 

or  less 

What  harm?     It  must  be  for  all  time  we  part. 
Our  solemn  word  is  given  others.    This  caress 

Must  be  the  last.     See  how  the  shadows  dart 
And  fate,  frightened  because  they  know  the  dawn 

is  due. 

Ah !  love,  look  up  at  me !     To  suffer  there 
Prostrate  before  the  fire  is  madness.     Surely 

you 

And  I  have  known  great  love.     'Tis  only  fair 
For  us  to  pay  our  price.      We  are  not  cowards — 

we 

Who  dared  so  much  in  life.     No!    Morning 
breaks ! 

41 


42  One  Last  Word 

I  hear  the  rattling  carts.     Let's  laugh  in  memory 
Of  what  was  ours.    We  made  our  mad  mis 
takes 
And  lost;  but  now  all  that  is  past.     At  last  we 

know 

Our  better  selves.     See !    I  am  smiling,  love, 
Stand  up  and  face  the  dawn.    Just  hold  me! 
There!    Now  go! 


WHEN 

October. 

GOLDENROD  with  asters  swaying,  russet,  purple 

in  the  field ; 
Woods  all  flecked  with  amber,  crimson,  autumn 

touched  and  autumn  sealed ; 
Meeting,  would  the  spell  of  mem'ries  draw  you 

tome?    Would  you  yield  ? 

January. 

Stiff,  stark  branches  black  and  frozen  'gainst  a 

dreary  winter  sky ; 
Frosted  roads  long,  bleak,  and  empty,  lead  from 

cold  to  cold  and  lie 
Naked  to  the  blowing  snowdrifts.  Meeting, 

would  you  pass  me  by? 

May. 

Orchards  glowing   rose-pink,    fragrant  bending 

over  velvet  green 
Meadow  grass,  where  dogwood  whitens  'gainst 

a  sky  aquamarine; 
Meeting  when  the  world  is  waking,  would  old 

shadows  come  between? 
43 


44  When 

August. 

Sands  salt-scented  fade  away  to  heat  mirages, 

and  the  sea 
Shadowed  amethyst  and  silver,  foams  a  little 

playfully ; 
Meeting  there,  the  world  forgotten,  would  you 

give  your  love  to  me? 


Ill 

In  the  Firelight 


45 


AT  THE  END  A  MEETING 

As  I  sit  before  the  hearthstone,  watching  em 
bers  turning  gray, 

Underneath  the  blue  and  red  flames  dancing 

Time  and  place  both  fade  away. 

And  my  chiffon  peignoir  glimmers  in  the  flick'- 
ring  shadow  light ; 

Heliotrope  and  columbine  so  fragrant, 

Clustered  in  a  tight  bouquet, 

Press  their  cool  cheeks  on  my  hot  throat,  bidding 
memories  awake. 

Now  beside  a  brook  I  wander  in  the 

Woodlands ;  now  I  hesitate, 

Listening  to  a  whistle  in  the  distance.     Now  I 

laugh  and  run, 
Arms  outstretched,   to  greet  him,   partner  in 

youth's 

Sweet  romance.    Then  a  small  snake, 
Sprawling  near  us  in  our  pathway,  starts  and 

glides  off  aimlessly. 
How  we  laughed  and  watched  his  brown  and 

yellow 

Markings  blend  into  a  tree. 
47 


48  At  the  End  a  Meeting 

Hand  in  hand,  the  warm  blood  racing  through 

our  veins,  we  ran  and  ran 

Through  the  ferns  and  o'er  the  pine-cones  to  a 
Lily  pool,  where  secretly 
We  swam,  splashing  in  and  out  the  deep  cool 

water,  laughing  too, 

When  the  ooze  sucked  at  our  feet  and  held  us 
Prisoners,  'til  we'd  rescue 
One  another.     Then  exhausted,  sleepy,  we  would 

bask  awhile 

On  the  sun-kissed  mosses,  telling  stories, 
Dreaming  dreams  that  must  come  true. 

Now  the  shadows  deepen,  mists  before  my  eyes 

have  blurred  my  dream. 

Chill  the  room  too,  from  the  fog-wind  blowing 
'Cross  the  marshlands ;  now  a  gleam 
From  a  falling  log  relights  the  vision. 

Standing  on  a  dock, 

Crowded  now  with  loved-ones,  watching  as  the 
Steamer  gathers  strength  to  steam 
Silently  away;  within  my  throat  an  ache  that 

burns  and  tears 
All  strength  from  my  heart:  he  goes;  and,  with 

his 
Going,  youth  for  evermore 


At  the  End  a  Meeting  49 

Dies  within  my  heart.     He  takes  another  with 

him.     White  and  cold 
I  turn  away,  facing  pain  that  knows  no 
Cure  save  Death's  starless  stream,  or 
Time's  slow,  pitiless  relief. — The  days  and  weeks, 

all  colorless 

Pass  by,  bringing  no  explanation,  no 
Word  of  him,  and  my  distress, 
Turning  into  bitterness,  leaves  me  devoid  of 

every  wish 

Save  one — seeing,  with  my  eyes  awakened, 
Life's  cold  world  of  ugliness. 

Shutters  creak  about  my  cottage;  rafters  moan 

so  dolefully 

In  the  wind,  that  half-afraid  I  listen 
Tense  in  vague  expectancy. 
Then  to  see  the  doors  and  windows  barred,  and 

put  another  log 
On  the  altar  of  my  dreams. 

I  see  now 

Little  faces  eagerly 

Looking  into  mine  with  laughing  starlike  eyes; 

then  baby  hands 

Reaching  to  me,  begging  me  to  take  them, 
Yet  they  cannot  understand ; 

4 


50  At  the  End  a  Meeting 

Babies  all  who  have  no  home,  no  mother-love; 

willingly  I'd 

Die  to  call  them  mine,  yet  I  can  but  play  each 
Day  with  them  in  wonderland. 
Knowing  them  I  learn  to  love  anew,  but  with  a 

love  grown  old. 

Seeing  their  loneliness  makes  my  sorrow, 
Like  a  dampened  flame,  grow  cold. 
Laughing,  yes,  and  happy  in  my  work  among  the 

poor,  I  lay 

Grief  aside  as  wicked.     Real  life  offers 
Us  such  problems  to  unfold, 
Why  waste  time  in  useless  longing  for  a  dream 

that  might  have  been. 

Now  that  I  am  old  and  useless  with  no 

Part  to  play  in  man's  routine, 

I  may  dream  my  dreams  at  evening  in  the  em 
bers'  dancing  light; 

Dream  my  dreams  and  let  my  heart  break  in 
the 

Darkness  here  alone,  unseen. 

How  the  wind  blows !    How  the  dampness  creeps 

in  through  the  crevasses ! 
Hear  the  dead  waves  in  the  distance  sounding 
Never  ending  restlessness ! 


At  the  End  a  Meeting  51 

Somewhere  from  the  depths,  white  hands  reach 

starward ;  somewhere  voices  call ; 
I  can  see  them — hear  them,  and  my  soul  in 
Death  seeks  their  unhappiness. 

Someone  knocks ! — Surely  'tis  no  one ! — yet  I  hear 

them  at  the  door, 

Knocking,  knocking  rapidly.     I'll  see  then 
Who  it  is.     But  no,  before 
I  go  I  will  straighten  out  my  laces,  brush  away 

my  tears. 

Wait  then !     I  am  coming.     See,  I  turn  the 
Key.     No  doubt  'tis  some  footsore 
Traveler.     But  no!    The  door  swings  open. — 

Oh  my  God!     'Tishe! 
He  who  stands  here,  arms  outstretched  to  take 

me, 

Hold  me,  silent,  tenderly — 
Love's    too    strong    and    I'm    too    weak  now. 

Depths  are  calling !     I  must  go ! 
Even  his  strong  arms  can't  keep  me.     Death  is 
Calling,  calling  me  to  sea. 

"No,  no  words,  just  kiss  me,  kiss  me.     In  your 

arms,  dear,  let  me  cry. 
All's  forgotten — all's  forgiven.     Hold  me — hold 

me — let  me  die." 


THE  LAST  DREAM 

(Of  Childhood) 

ONCE  more  to  pass  the  rustic  gate,  once  more 
To  seek  the  meadows  hidden  by  the  hedge, 
And  rest  in  the  ragged  field  of  goldenrod 
And  scrubby  pine-trees  marshaled  in  a  line 
Guarding  the  stillness  of  a  happy  world. 
Where  every  day  together  you  and  I 
Built  iridescent  castles  in  our  dreams. 

(Of  Adolescence) 

Blue  Heaven  rippled  by  a  thousand  clouds; 
Stillness,  and  sparkling  mountain  air,  and  all 
The  valleys  outlined  purple  'gainst  the  hills; 
Once  more  to  touch  you,  hold  you,  listen  to 

your 

Voice  echoed  on  the  cliff  across  the  lake, 
And  wander  homeward  to  the  little  freshly 
Painted  town  where  fragrant  wood-smoke  curls 

from 

Out  the  red  brick  chimney  tops  as  evening 
Falls.     Once  again  with  you  beneath  the  hills 
52 


The  Last  Dream  53 

Alone,  while  the  clear-eyed  stars  watch  over  us 
And  light  the  long  still  evenings  that  we  spend 
Each  heart  to  each,  brave  in  our  untried  faith. 

(Of  Full  Life) 

Once  more  the  hot  breath  of  the  city  streets, 

Stifling  the  little  sufferers  as  they  lie 

Wide-eyed  and  pale,  the  nervous  crowds  seek  out 

Their  destinations,  weary  at  the  close 

Of  day,  and  I,  I  wander  listlessly, 

Waiting  your  departure  that  I  and  my  pain 

May  seek  oblivion  in  the  tangle  of 

Men's  lives  unknown  to  you. — You  pass,  and  in 

The  flicker  of  the  street  lamp  I  can  see 

Your  eyes  smiling  into  his.     Now  in  the  night's 

Hot  stillness  I  am  there  again  beside 

A  wharf  as  the  smooth  water  glides  by  at  my 

feet; 
Deep  night  and  the  rain,  and  a  dawn  that  holds 

part 

Of  all  the  darkness  of  the  night,  and  you, 
You  are  gone. — 

(Of  Old  Age) 

Firelight  thrids  the  dusk;  my  lamp 
Is  flick'ing  in  a  breath  of  wind  that  brings 


54  The  Last  Dream 

The  voices  of  your  children  to  my  ear.    They 
Are  coming  to  my  door  to  beg  me  tell 
Stories.    Once  again  I  hear  their  laughter  as 
They  cluster  round  me.     Once  again  I  see 
Your  eyes  in  theirs,  and  hear  your  voice  ringing 

in 

Their  own.     I  kiss  and  send  them  back  to  you, 
Warmed  by  the  imprint  of  their  little  hands, 
And  warm  within  my  heart  because  they  love 
Me  too. 

In  my  room  all  the  blinds  are  drawn ;  I 
Am  waiting  for  the  night  to  bring  me  rest. 
And  you,  are  you  tired  too?    Soon  you  will 

come 

And  lay  your  hand  in  mine. — Beyond  the  sea, 
The  white  line  of  the  sky  is  clear;  I  know 
That  you  will  come,  for  I  have  waited  long. 


AN  OLD  MAN'S  SONG 

OH!  little  singing  bird,   the  song  within  thy 

throat 
Is  tuned  to  wake  the  violets;  each  trembling 

note 
Bids    frightened    butterflies    spread    out    their 

gauzy  wings 
And  seek  the  sun.     There  is  no  messenger  that 

sings 
Of  Spring  as  thee.     Sing  on  of  love  for  I  am 

old. 

Oh !  little  singing  bird,  I  call  thee  Chickadee 
Because  thy  merry  voice  is  as  a  child's  to  me ; 
Sing  on  thy  laughing  summer  song;  the  fall  is 

nigh, 
And  soon,  my  singing  bird,  both  you  and  I  shall 

die; 
Sing  on  of  love,  my  Chickadee,  for  I  am  old. 


55 


IN  THE  SOUTH  WIND 

I  STOOD  within  a  garden  of  noonday  shadows 

deep, 
Where  lotus  buds  were  drooping  in  winds  that 

whispered  sleep ; 
The   sands  were   flecked  with  silver   by  pools 

aquamarine, 
And  ivy  vines  entwining  caressed  the  mosses 

green; 
The  south  wind  in  the  hedges  murmured    in 

undertone 
To  leave  the  lighted  highway  and  live  for  love 

alone. 


THE  LOST  PRAYER 

THE  lost  prayer  of  a  soul  is  spent 

On  voiceless  winds  that  sweep 
From  barren  heights  past  man's  ascent, 

And  swaying  forests  deep, 
To  valleys  dim  in  meadow  mists 

And  citied  lands  of  toil, 
Cross  opal  sands  that  lie  wave-kissed — 

An  ocean's  naked  spoil — 
Beyond,  as  midnight  sea  and  earth 

Are  lost  in  mystery, 
Dream-children  of  a  soul  have  birth 

In  solemn  harmony. 


57 


TO  A  CIGARETTE 

SLIM  white  enchantress, 

With  fiery  eye, 
Frail  tissue  temptress, 

Thy  lovers  would  die 
Craving  thee,  braving 

Thee,  even  as  I. 

See  how  I  press  thee 
And  play  with  thee  yet; 

Loving,  caress  thee 
My  own  paper  pet; 

Slender  and  tender 
Countess  Cigarette. 

Dangerous  Darling, 
The  touch  of  thy  tips 

Keeps  me  from  starving; 
There,  close  to  my  lips 

Thrill  me  and  still  me 
With  opiate  sips. 
58 


To  a  Cigarette  59 

Gypsy  Godiva, 

All  white  save  thine  eye; 
Dearest  Deceiver, 

Thy  lovers  would  die 
Kissing  thee,  missing 

Thee,  even  as  I. 


MASQUES 

A    SKETCH 

Time — Moonlight. 
Scene — On  a  Terrace. 
Characters — HE 

SHE 

OTHERS 

(Six  or  eight  masqued  couples,  in  fancy  dress, 
are  waltzing  to  and  fro  across  the  terrace.  Moon 
light  and  shadows  fall  across  them.  The  strains 
of  a  waltz  drift  through  the  trees.  The  music 
ceases.) 

The   Host.  Ladies  and   gentlemen,   I  beg  you 

cease 
This  modern  dance ;  the  moonlight  is 

too  bright, 
Come,  let  us  dream  awhile  of  old 

romance, 
And  choose  our  partners  for  a  minuet. 

(Laughter  amongst  the  group,  as  the  partners 
are  chosen,  but  another  is  before  Him,  and  draws 
60 


Masques  61 

Her  away.  The  minuet  music  starts  and  the 
dance  begins.  Towards  the  close  of  the  minuet, 
He  steps  on  Her  dress,  tearing  the  lace.  The 
dance  ceases  and  ttje  others  draw  away  into  the 
shadows.) 

He  Canst  thou  forgive  me?    See  I  have 

torn  thy  dress 
So  misty  white  and  cloud-like  that  I 

fain 
Would  weave  the  silken  tissue  back 

again 
And  have  thee  smile  thy  pardon  down 

on  me. 

She  Hearing  thee  speak  such  words  of 

penitence 
Is  worth  far  more  than  laces.     Do  I 

know 
Thee?    Are  we  but  strangers  here, 

meeting  by  chance 
Behind  two  masques,  and  is  the  thrill 

I  feel 
On  hearing  thy  voice  but  the  spell  of 

the  night? 

He  Dear  Lady,  whiter  than  the  whitest 

star, 


62  Masques 

Something's  familiar  in  thy  loveli 
ness, 

And  yet  I  cannot  call  thy  name. 
Can  there 

Be  madness  in  the  wanton  wind, 
lighting 

A  spark  of  love  between  us  suddenly  ? 

Here  in  the  shadowlight,  come  dream 
with  me 

Of  night  that  whispers  secrets  man 
should  know. 

She  Promise    thou    wilt    not    lift    the 

masque  from  off 
My  face,  and  I  will  stay.     No  one 

must  know 
Me  for  I  am  not  free  to  touch  thy 

hand. 
Yet  for  one  moment  more  or  less, 

what  harm  ? 
Promise  thou  wilt  not  lift  the  masque 

from  off 
My  face. 

He  And  I  am  no  more  free  than  thou, 

Neither  shall  know  the  other,  yet  the 
woods 


Masques  63 

Shall  know  us  both  and  keep  our 

secret  deep 
Within  its  shade. 

She  Shadowed  by  fir-trees  sighing,  softly, 

we 

Will  wander  hand  in  hand  apart 
From  life  and  the  insincere  laughter 

of  men. 
We'll  dance    o'er    jewel    moonbeam 

paths, 
Winding    through    scented    groves 

where  lotus  lie 
On    rippling    ponds;   we'll    sip   the 

night- 
Mist  from  the  brook,  and  count  each 

icy  star 
That    melts    within    the   flames    of 

dawn. 
Dreaming    to-night    will   make   the 

morrow  sweet; 

No  day  can  make  us  e'er  regret 
This  magic  hour. 

He  Love  at  thy  call  I  am  here. 

My   heart  awakens  from  stagnant 
sleep 


64  Masques 

Hearing  thee  speak,  and  elves  are 

dancing  through 

My  blood ;  my  youth  has  come  again 
Poignant  with  love's  intensity.    Love 

I 
Must  touch  thee  e're  the  ache  within 

my  throat 
Crushes  my  breath. 

She  Masque,    thou   art   mad   with   the 

moon 

That  falls  in  veils  of  misty  light 
About  our  eyes— 

He  Yes,  and  'tis  thee  whom  I  love! 

She  Touch  not  my  lips,  but  rather  lay 

thy  cool 
(Music  from  below  the  terrace.) 

Hand    on    my    cheek.     Fever    and 

lightning  dart  through 
My  veins,  and  I  am  trembling  here  to 

be 
Within  thine  arms.    (Goes  to  him.) 

Dance  with  me !     Moments  like 

these 
Are  dearer  than  Eternity.    Passion's 


Masques  65 

Exquisite  flower  pours  out  her  fra 
grance 

Before  us.  Come! — Into  the  moon 
light!  Dance! 

(They  dance  away  to  a  Bohemian  melody.  At 
the  end  of  the  dance  she  falls  exhausted,  he  bends 
over  her  and  lifts  her  in  his  arms.  The  night 
turns  gray;  the  dawn  breaks  amber  and  rose.) 

He  Look  to  the  East!    A  flame  of  red 

burns  all 
The  sky.     The  pale  stars  trembling, 

fade,  and  morn, 
Waking  the  world  from  dreams   of 

ecstacy, 
Will  part  us  all  too  soon. 

She  A  moment  now 

Beside  thee ;  then  into  the  empty  light 

of 
Day,  I  into  a  home  where  love  has 

died 
Leaving    just    ashen    memories    to 

wake 
In  silent  shadows.     Every  day  and 

night 


66  Masques 

Spends    its     unthinking    hours    in 

commonplace 

Reality.    I  do  not  dare  to  dream 
Fearing  the  pain  that  would  arise  on 

thoughts 
Of  tenderness.     Yet  I  am  starved  for 

love. 

He  E'en  so  within  my  home.     I  too  am 

starved ; 
Unthinking  she  and  I  have  drifted  on 

'til 
I,  who  am  her  husband,  know  her 

least  of  all 
The  world. 

She  How  strange  that  men  should  suffer 

so, 

Dying  perhaps,  rather  than  voice 
their  heartache, 

Or  beg  one  touch,  one  look  to  kindle 
love. 

So  it  will  be  until  the  hungry  meet 

Each  other,  just  as  we  have  done, 
strangers 

Seeking  we  know  not  what,  but  satis 
fied 


Masques  67 

To  glow  beneath  each  others'  touch 
awhile. 

He  Morning  has  climbed  from  under 

neath  the  world 

And  the  blue  sky  from  the  folds  of 
night; 

So  you  have  drawn  my  soul  to  you. 
Just  with 

Your  fragrant  hands  you've  swept 
away  the  dust 

From  Life's  highway ;  now  as  I  go  my 
way 

Perhaps  I'll  look  at  men  and  smile 
once  more.  Who  knows  ? 

She  Touch  me  again  that  I  may  take  a 

spark 
Of  this  new   love  away   with   me. 

Crush  me 
That  I  may  wake  to-morrow  hurting 

from 
The  force  of  thine  embrace.     I've 

starved  so  long. 

He  Promise  you  will  not  let  the  memory 

Of  me,  a  masquer,  make  you  sad. 


68  Masques 

Think  of  my  love  as  hovering  by 

you. 
In   every   moment   that   you   seem 

alone 
Feel  my  voice  whispering,  "I  love 

you."     In 
The  night-time  when  you  long  to 

hear  a  voice 

Singing  to  you  of  love,  for  silently 
I  follow  in  each  path-way  that  you 

go, 
Counting  the  dust  from  off  thy  feet 

as  gold. 
No  night  shall  pass  but  that  I  bend 

my  knees 

Before  you,  lest  thou  suffer  loneliness; 
No  day  but  that  I  beg  thee  let  me 

serve. 
Give  me  thy  last  caress  in  promise 

that 
Thou  wilt  not  grieve! 

She  Speak  not  of  parting  yet, 

Morning    has    scarcely    stirred    the 

sleeping  birds 
With  its  soft  wind.     The    shadows 

dart  and  fade, 


Masques  69 

Frightened  because  they  know  the 

morn  is  here. 
But  thou  art  not  as  cowardly  as 

they, 
Stay  with  me  but  a  moment  more, 

this  night 
Has  been  a  dream,  an  intermission 

of 
Life's  dull  routine.     You  do  not  know 

my  name; 
I  would  not  have  you  know,    more 

beautiful 
This  madness  as  it  is.    Give  me  thy 

hand! 

He  Think 'st  thou  I  do  not  know  thy 

name?  I  know 

It  well.  All  night  the  stars  have 
spelled  it  out 

In  stones  of  fire  across  the  sky :  the 
wind 

Whispered  thy  secret  to  me  e're  thou 
laid 

Thy  hand  in  mine.  I  knew  thee 
when  thou  ran 

Laughing  and  smiling  'cross  the  ball 
room  floor. 


7o  Masques 

She  Who  am  I  then? 

He  First  promise  that  thou  wilt 

Not  retract  this  love  thou  hast  given 
me! 

(She  goes  to  him  and  kisses  him;  He  takes 
her  in  his  arms  and  holds  her  to  him,  pushing 
her  at  arm's  length  he  exclaims — ) 

Thou  art  my  wife !   And  I  adore  thee ! 
(Embrace  each  other.) 

CURTAIN 


IV 
In  the  Dark 


AFTER  ALL 

MADNESS,  a  voice  half  prayer,  half  song, 
Passion,  an  empty  gain  of  hands,  lips,  eyes; 

Awakening,  a  price,  a  long 
Road  winding  on  to  sacrifice, 

And  then  regret — 

But  yet, 

Can  this  be  Love? 

A  row  of  shadow  shapes  throughout 
The  fog  passing  in  silence  one  by  one, 

A  wisp  of  light,  a  laugh,  a  doubt, 
A  pile  of  ashes  in  the  sun 

Smoulders  regret; 

And  yet, 

Can  this  be  Life? 


73 


ANOTHER  STAR 

TALL  white  candles  burning  on  a  snow-white 

altar  piece, 
Over   the   Cross   a   golden  shaft  of  sunlight 

falls; 
Silence,  rows  of  wide-eyed  little  boys,   whose 

whispers  cease 

When,  from  the  vaulted  depths,  an  organ's 
thunder  calls 

Echoes  of  God  to  earth. 

Kneeling  here,  his  small  white  hands  enclasped, 

his  eyes  shut  tight, 
A  child  whispers  a  prayer;  "Oh,  give  her  back 

to  me, 

Dear  God,  or  let  me  go  to  her. "     An  acolite 
Puts   out   each   candle,    bowing   low.     Then 
silently 

The  people  turn  to  go. 

Gold  and  rose  light  mingle  with  the  dusk ;  night 

and  its  shadows  start 

To  wrap  the  world  in  folds  of  gray  close  to  their 
breast. 

74 


Another  Star  75 

"Little  boy  who  prayed  so  for  thy  mother's 

touch,  God  saw  thy  heart 
And  took  thee  up  into  her  arms  again.     So 
rest. 

Another  star  is  born. " 


MASTER  ONE 

NEW  leaves  that  lie  unborn  throughout  the  frost 

open  their  fragrant  lips  to  taste  the  sun ; 
The  hollow  stillness  of  the  cloudless  night  is 

guarded  by  the  wakeful  stars  that  gaze 
Into  the  fathomless  abyss  that  hangs  above  the 

world;  and  Thou,  Great  Silent  One, 
Rekindles  warmth  within  the  branches  of  the 

trees,  making  the  sap  like  foaming  wine 
Run  to  the  smallest  feather  tip  that  rides  the 

sunny  air.     The  grass  sips  in  the  dew 
And  carpets  all  the  fields  with  green.     The  dusty 

earth  sends  forth   its  weeds  to  feed  the 

birds 
Who  mate  and  breed  their  young.     The  winter 

skies  of  gray  grow  old  and  dying,  leave 

the  blue 
And  white  of  summer  as  a  canopy  of  light  above 

the  earth.     It  is  Thy  will 
To  lengthen  shadows  as  the  day  blends  fire-lit 

sunsets  with  the  purple  of  the  night; 
It  is  Thy  voice  that  sounds  in  thunder  clouds, 

Thine  eyes  that  look  on  us  in  lightning  as 
76 


Master  One  77 

We  tremble  at  what  seems  Thy  pitiless  rebuke, 

yet  weakest  wild-wood  buds  invite 
The  violence  of  storms,  knowing  far  more  than 

we,  who  cannot  see  beyond  the  length 
Of  our  own  shadows  on  the  road.     Nature  and 

Thee  are  One,  and  we  are  prisoners, 
Held  by  our  bodies  in  the  dark  apart.    And  Thou, 

who  art  Thou  then,  and  is  Thy  strength 
Strength  after  all?   And  is  our  every  weakness, 

weak? — Such  questions  come  from  lips  of 

fools. 
Man  cannot  make  the  day  less  sultry,  or  an  hour 

less  long;  man  cannot  wake  the  sod 
And  make  it  yield  a  rose.     The  soul  of  life  itself 

is  still  a  mystery  to  all 
Beyond  the  reach  of  carnate  minds;  yet  some 

men  dare  to  doubt  that  Thou,  Great  Master 

One,  art  God. 


SUICIDES 

THE  river  dark'ning,  winds  on  to  the  bay; 
The  greenish  swirls  are  gathering  about  the  piles 
That,  rotting,  totter  in  each  wind  that  blows 
Upon  their  oily  boards.     An  ugly  boat 
Rocks  up  and  down,  and  shivers  in  the  trough 
Of  waves  from  tide  and  wind — a  boat  that  waits 

beside 

A  net  to  gather  unimaginable  forms 
By  day  and  night,  that  drift,  not  knowing,  out 

to  sea. 

Ten  thousand  see  the  light  that  shines  within 
The  stars,  as  if  some  one  were  smiling  in  the 

sky; 

But  they  see  not,  who  float  on  out  to  sea; 
Love  smiles  and  lays  a  baby  hand  upon  the 

breast 
Of  some,  but  they  feel  not  the  warmth,  who 

drift 
On  silently.     A  few  may  cry  their  name,  but 

they 

Hear  not,  nor  wait,  but  as  a  derelict, 
Float  with  the  tide  that  eddying  goes  out  to  sea. 

78 


OVER  ALL 

SURGING  tide,  and  one  small  boat, 
Waters  dark,  the  wind's  shrill  note, 
Strength  to  strength,  a  prayer  to  Fate, 
Closing  eyes,  lips  supplicate, 
Circumstances  grimly  cold, 
Hopes  that  keep  an  anchor  hold, 
Love  to  light  the  passageway, 
Masques  of  Death  in  iron  gray, 
Wreckage  drifts,  and  derelicts 
On  Life's  sea  of  lost  conflicts, 
But  God's  there  above  it  all, 
To  pilot  us  at  evenfall. 


79 


RETROSPECT 

OH    little    rainbow-windowed    chapel   on   the 

hill, 
Tell  me,   thy  child  of  long  ago,    thy    secret 

will; 
Is  there  no  pen  to  write  again  the  thoughts  that 

thrilled 
Our  youth?     Is  there  no  echo  of  the  voice  that 

stilled 
Our  breaking  childish  hearts,  or  taught  us  lisping 

prayers 
To  God,   who  understood   enough   of  all  our 

cares 

To  give  us  dolls  or  mend  a  broken  china  cow? 
Speak  little  rainbow-windowed  chapel  on  the 

hill, 
Speak  with  thy  cob-web  belfry-bell  thy  secret 

will. 

Oh  blowing  Autumn  orchard,  wind-tossed  in  the 

rain, 
Will  you  and  I  know  love  and  blossoms  e'er 

again  ? 

80 


Retrospect  81 

Is  there  no  way  that  I  may  feel  the  warmth  once 

more 
Of  vital  days,  dear  in  my  memory,  but  lost 

before 
I  knew  their  beauty,  or  half  understood  their 

power — 
Days  that  I  look  upon  and  say,  "It  might  have 

been, "  while  hours 
Are  creeping  stealthily  between  the  then  and 

now. 
Oh  Autumn  orchard,  wind-tossed,  blowing  in 

the  rain, 
Will  you  and  I  know  love  and  blossoms  e'er 

again? 

6 


A  LITANY 

GIVE  Faith  to  men  in  war! 

And  women  strength  in  birth ! 
Return  us  love  once  more 

In  peace  again  on  earth ! 
Touch  fever-stricken  eyes! 

Put  out  the  lights  of  sin ! 
Ennoble  sacrifice! 

Let  brave  hearts  win ! 
Return  to  us  the  loss 

Of  love,  and  life,  and  soul ! 
Teach  us  to  bear  our  cross 

With  infinite  control ! 
Teach  us  to  win  the  race 

To  an  Eternal  goal 
Where  all  stand  face  to  face 

With  one  vast  Over-Soul! 


THE  DECEIT  OF  IT  ALL 

So  this  is  all !  This  is  to  be  the  end  of  all  except 

thy  wrath ! 
Like  children's  bubbles  blown  from  out  a  pewter 

bowl 
To  ride  the  air  awhile  and  cast  their  liquid  jewels 

on  the  hearth — 
No  more  or  less  your  love;  while  mine  awoke  my 

soul. 
Was  it  your  fault?     I  cannot  help  but  ask. 

Did  not  we  steal  too  much, 
And  crush  the  beauty  that  was  ours  in  shadow 

ways? 
Deceit  in  love  brings  mental  sluggishness  where 

all  is  in  the  touch, 
Lest  thinking  deeply   bring  us  to  the  better 

phase 
Of  love  where  reason  dominates  and  passion's 

laid  aside. 

We  cannot  realize  our  love  by  night  and  be 
Ashamed  of  it  by  day.     So  you  and  I,  before  the 

whole  world  wide 

83 


84  The  Deceit  of  It  All 

Should   have   proclaimed    to   man    our    secret 

unity. 
For  as  it  was,  little  by  little,  I  could  feel  the  chill 

creep  through 
My  heart  as  you  would  draw  away  pleading 

fatigue, 
Or  lack   of   time.     Sometimes   you'd   start   in 

anger  at  a  foot-step  through 
The  door.     Your  silence  told  me  you  despised 

intrigue 
And  soon  all  of  the  little  things  I  tried  to  do  or 

say  were  wrong. 
One  day  I    dropped  a  loved  book    from  my 

finger  tips 
Breaking   the  fine  morocco.     You  were  kind 

and  kept  on  with  your  song 
But  I  could  see  your  muscles  tighten,  and  your 

lips 
Were  hard  before  you  forced  a  smile.     Then 

someone  knocked,  and  guiltily 
You  held  the  door  ajar,  lying  to  one  who  came 
To  chat  with  you.     I  understood  you,   dear, 

and  felt  the  misery 
Of   subterfuge,   and    yet   in  spite   of   all,   the 

same 
Old  love  made  me  forget  all  else,  outweighed  each 

petty  dissonance 


The  Deceit  of  It  All  85 

And  being  thine  within  my  soul  I  knew  no  other 

creed 
Save  loving  thee.     What  harm  to  other  men  our 

disobedience? 
God  in  his  Heaven  understands  and  knows  our 

need 
Of  being  true  unto  the  best  within  us. — Yet  all's 

said  and  done 
And  now  there  is  this  failure :  not  that  love  were 

wrong 
But  rather  that  deception  gnawed  into  our  minds. 

The  open  sun 
Must  shine  on  love  to  keep  it  sweet,  and  truth 

must  be  its  song. 


MOODS 

MAN'S  but  a  futile  pawn,  a  crumbling  fleck  of 

dust 
That  drifts  from  square  to  square,  bearing  the 

stain  of  tears  and  rust ; 
To-day  erases  yesterday ;  to-morrow  knows 
No  memory  except  its  own.     Man  plays  at  life 

and  goes 
Blindfolded  to  the  end,  an  unseen  wheel  within  a 

wheel. 

My  heart  is  there  on  sandy  shores  where  shadows 

play 
Across    the    dunes,    where    south    winds    sing 

throughout  the  day 
Of  love  beyond  the  sun.     My  prayers  are  there 

in  mist 
That  draws  the  salt-scent  from  the  sea.     My 

soul's  an  Arabist 
And  builds  its  tent  of  dreams  in  far-off  islands 

of  romance. 

Dark  falls  across  the  city  walls,  and  you  are 
there 

86 


Moods  87 

Before  me  in  the  dusk.     One  touch,  and  thy  love 

unaware 
Would  come  to  me;  hands  that  are  cooler  than 

the  pale  moon-flower, 
Touch  not  mine  eyes  where  fever  lights  of  passion 

glower; 
Look  to  the  field  of  stars  until  my  soul  returns 

thy  glance. 

The  moment  now  is  real.     Look  to  the  depths 

and  see 
God  moving  there.     Stoop  not  to  vain  regret,  the 

master  key 
To  life's  experience.     Count  nothing  lost.     The 

best 
Of  men  stand  face  to  face  with  pain ;  he  who  can 

bear  the  test 
Of  grief  shall   win   at   length.     God,    high   in 

Heaven,  let  us  kneel ! 


THE  LONG  ROAD 

THE  long  road  desolate 

Winds  through  the  forest,  and  the  night  is  still; 

The  cross-roads  join  the  main 

Pointing  to  hidden  opportunity ; 

The  long  road  desolate 

Leads  to  the  little  stones  of  white  behind 

An  open  iron  gate. 

Where  is  the  light?    The  wood 

Is  dark;  the  lanterns  in  the  sky  are  out; 

The  rain  falls  through  the  leaves; 

Weary,  the  flowers  droop  their  heavy  blooms; 

Their  fragrance  turns  the  night 

Wind's  breath  into  an  opiate  beside 

The  long  road  desolate. 

Where  is  the  end,  and  death, 

Brushing  the  burning  dust  from  off  my  lips? 

I  lay  my  fire-dreams  down, 

Seeking  the  deep  cool  water's  edge.    Are  there 

No  rainbow  vestments  for 

Toilers  that  fall  too  soon  beside  the  long 

Road  desolate  called  Life? 


THE  RUN 

BLACK!    Black!    Into  the  black! 

Our  headlights  flashing  on ! 
On !    On !    Over  the  track 
That  stretches  to  the  dawn ! 
Down !     Down !    Where  all  is  still 
In  mists  within  the  vale ! 
Up!    Up!     Over  the  hill 
We  trace  our  winding  trail. 
Speed !    Speed !    The  throttle  wide ! 
'Round  curve  and  on  the  straight ; 
Fast !    Fast !    Through  countryside, 
City  and  town.     Let's  wait ; 
No !    No !    The  road  is  wide — 
Swerve  for  that  aimless  dog ! ! 
Now  on !    Watch  out !    The  side 
Is  hidden  by  the  fog : 
Plunge!     Plunge!     Into  the  dip, 
The  wet  wind  in  our  face; 
Race!    Race!    A  record  trip! 
The  road  is  ours  to  trace. 
There !    There !    The  fog  is  gone ; 
The  air  is  clear.     Let's  go — 
89 


90  The  Run 

Go!    Go!    We'll  meet  the  dawn 

Beyond  the  hill.    Let's  show 

Speed !    Speed !    The  speed  that  makes 

A  record — Mind  the  bridge ! ! 

Brakes !    Brakes !    Jam  on  your  brakes ! 

Ah — Left  now  to  the  ridge 

That  in  the  shadow  lies 

Beneath  old  Stony  Hedge, 

Winds !    Winds !    Within  our  eyes 

My  God,  man !    Ugh !    The  ledge ! ! ! 

Space !    Space — Spaces  that  float — 
No  sound — No  pain — No  breath — 
Blood — Blood — Blood  in  our  throat — 
Blackness — The  fog — And  death — 


TOO  MUCH  FOR  A  WORD 

GIVE  my  thy  hand.  There,  draw  thy  chair 
beside  my  bed.  One  last  word  more; 

My  last  day's  sun  is  setting.  All  is  dusk.  Fire- 
shadows  'cross  the  floor 

Are  flickering;  they  tire  my  burning  eyes  and  I 
must  close  them.  There, 

Come  close.  Thou  art  my  son,  and  I  must  say 
one  say,  and  pray  one  pray 

With  thee  alone  before  I  go ;  for  I,  no  longer  I, 
would  know 

Within  the  vast  beyond,  that  thou,  living  thy 
vital  life  below, 

Art  surely  owner  of  thy  mother's  last  love 
word. 

Through    all    thy  dealings  in  the  world  with 

worldly  men,  just  understand 
Their  games,  their  motives.     Be  not  fooled  by 

sham  success;  throughout  the  land 
The  man  who  wins  is  he  who  runs  the  race 

straightforward  to  the  end, 
Not  falling  to  alluring,  doubtful  schemes.     The 

others  who  offend 


92  Too  Much  for  a  Word 

The  laws,  may  win  to  thy  snap  judgment  but 

mean  dealings  never  win 
The  real  success.     Be  wise;  say  little;  feel  thou 

all ;  to  damn  is  vain. 
Come  closer,  darling.     There.     My  fevered  eyes 

are  blurred. 


Above  all  things,  be  brave.  Just  knowing  fear 
is  no  excuse  to  shun 

A  task ;  count  not  thy  life  as  one  of  such  import 
ance.  Never  run 

Away  in  mind  or  body  from  the  dangerous. 
Each  time  thou  give 

Thy  life  to  help  another,  thou  art  once  again  a 
man.  So  live 

And  smother  all  thy  weaker  self.  See  every 
thing,  the  right  and  wrong, 

And  understand,  trying  thine  own  strength, 
dear,  to  know  it  really  strong. 

And  should  thou  fail,  then  feel  thou  none  the 
nearer  God. 

And  when  thy  heart  first  yearns  to  feel  the  thrill 

of  woman's  touch,  be  true 
Unto  thy   best.      Stand  firm,  and  do  no  mad 

thing  all  because  it's  new 


Too  Much  for  a  Word  93 

And  seems  a  vital  part  of  life.     Pretending  love 

will  desecrate 
Thy  heart,  and  cheapen  all  thy  soul  may  long 

to  give.     Then  hesitate 
A  little  lest  thy  happiness  be  marred  by  too 

much  playing.    Youth 
Under  the  open  skies,  laughing  the  long  days 

through  will  find  the  truth. 
Be  just  a  boy,  my  boy, — Thy  hand — My  breath 

comes  hard. 

For  love  will  come  to  thee  ere  long.     Unthinking 

thou  wilt  find  thy  one, 
And  thee  and  she  wilt  come  into  thine  own. 

Then  play  the  game,  my  son ; 
Think  twice  of  her  to  once  of  thine  own  self. 

Give  all.     Take  what  she  gives 
Thee   freely.     Love    is    the   most    delicate   of 

flowers  and  it  lives 

In  atmospheres  where  free  thoughts,  dear,  con 
sideration,  and  respect 
Are  habits   of   the  mind.     Cherish   thy   least 

romance.     Never  neglect 
The  little  things  of  love.     And  be  thou  true 

through  all. 

And  then  when  children  come  to  thee,  give  to 
their  youth  thy  youth,  nor  take 


94  Too  Much  for  a  Word 

Their  hearty  foolishness  as  serious.     Know  the 

new  age,  and  make 
Thyself    alive    to    understand    thy    children's 

pleasures  and  their  pain. 
Rule  them  through  dignity  and  love;  show  them 

thy  sportsmanship  and  strain 
Of  humor — Dear,  the  fever  draws — a  waving 

film  before  mine  eyes 
Makes  all  things  dim,  e'en  thy  dear  face.    Would 

that  my  soul  could  sacrifice 
Its  peace  to  watch  o'er  thee.     Kiss  me.    The 

shadows  fall 

Dear  God  above — Watch  over  him  and  keep 

him  close  to  thee,  and  let  him  feeling 
Thee,  know  all  the  best,  the  truth.     A  mother's 

love  on  earth  is  done — here  kneeling 
Hand  in  hand,  we  pray  thee — Now,  all's  said 

and  done.     Come  close  once  more.     Life's 

sun  is  low; 
Love  me  and  feel  my  love  above  thee  always — 

All's  blackness.     Now  the  light — I  go. 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


Form  L9-42m-8,'49  (85573)444 


THE  LIBRARY 
UNIVERSITY  OF  C 

LOS  ANGELES 


PS  Criss  - 

3505         In  the  name  of 

C86781     love. 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


A    000919760    9 


PS 

3505 
C86?8i 


